


Small Touches, Words Unspoken

by hostilovi



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Bonding, Gen, M/M, Mild Language, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-02
Updated: 2016-08-02
Packaged: 2018-07-28 21:31:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7657456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hostilovi/pseuds/hostilovi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yamaguchi didn’t quite know when it happened, the exact moment when he realized. Maybe it had been a series of small events; small touches, words unspoken.</p>
<p>Yamaguchi just wished he hadn’t fallen for someone quite so unattainable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Small Touches, Words Unspoken

**Author's Note:**

> Commission written for @thatsnotbeautiful on tumblr

Yamaguchi didn’t quite know when it happened, the exact moment when he realized. Maybe it had been a series of small events; small touches, words unspoken.

Yamaguchi just wished he hadn’t fallen for someone quite so unattainable.

“Tsukki,” he groaned one night while they were walking home together, “this is awful. Just terrible. What am I going to do?”

“Do whatever you want,” he said, characteristically unhelpful. But he eyed Yamaguchi sideways, considering. “It can’t be all that bad.”

“I guess. There are moments when I think that—maybe I’ve got a shot?”

“There you go.”

“But, Tsukki, I don’t. How can I? He’s just so—so—”

He sighed. “It’s just Ennoshita, Yamaguchi.”

Yamaguchi scoffed at his description of  _just._  Ennoshita wasn’t  _just_ anything.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“You did well out there today, Yamaguchi.”

Yamaguchi froze where he was, with his shirt halfway off, kneepads loose around his ankles, hair sweaty and mussed from practice. Not the most cutting of figures, especially when his crush was smiling at him so warmly.

Thankfully, Ennoshita didn’t seem to notice how embarrassed he was, nor how quickly he pulled his shirt back down. “You’ve been practicing a lot. It shows.” Ennoshita curled a hand over his shoulder, squeezing gently, dark eyes soft.

“I’m pretty sure you’re the only one who noticed,” Yamaguchi said with a forced laugh, staring at the safer region of Ennoshita’s chin instead of meeting his gaze.

“Not true, Yamaguchi.” His brows crinkled in a small frown. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, okay? We’ve all noticed how hard you’ve been working. More importantly…” he finally pulled his hand away from Yamaguchi’s shoulder, “do I have something on my face?”

He flushed a deeper shade of red, if possible. “N-No. Sorry. I must be tired, that’s all.”

Ennoshita waited a beat before smiling. He touched him again—a total of two touches tonight, not counting the slap to the back he had received during practice—he was going to melt into the ground, he was sure of it. It was nothing huge, a quick and gentle touch to his arm, near his elbow.

“You make it home safely, get some good rest tonight.”

“Yes, Ennoshita. I will.”

With that, Ennoshita turned to leave the clubroom.

“Y-You too!” Yamaguchi called out after him. “Make it home safely, I mean!”

_Stupid. That was stupid._

But Ennoshita cast him another smile over his shoulder and a tiny wave right before he left for good. Tsukshima glanced over at him, unimpressed.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid._

“You’ve got it bad,” Tsukishima observed, tone faintly amused.

“Don’t even,” Yamaguchi warned tiredly. Tsukishima shrugged, settling his headphones around his neck.

“I’ll wait outside. Hurry up and change.”

The walk home that night was mostly silent, Tsukishima wrapped up in his thoughts, Yamaguchi remembering the feel of Ennoshita’s calloused fingers on his bare skin.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It was hard, always being on the sidelines. Always watching, unable to help besides cheering for the regulars. Yamaguchi felt guilty for wishing something would happen that would allow him to be on the court. Because if he was called out, that meant things were going badly.

And he had failed his team before.

Yamaguchi curled his hands into fists, staring at the game before him intently.

_Win,_ he willed them with every fiber of his being.  _Win._

“Intense, isn’t it,” Ennoshita said, jostling him with his elbow. Yamaguchi couldn’t help jumping, tensing up at the casual touch. Ennoshita frowned. He glanced down, where Yamaguchi’s hands were white-knuckled at his sides. “Everything okay?”

“Fine,” he choked out. “I’m fine.”

“No offense or anything,” and he smiled there, that ever so charming smile that made Yamaguchi weak in the knees, “but you’re a shit liar.”

Yamaguchi quickly looked away, back towards the match. “Always have been,” he said, just to say something.

“You wish you were out there.”

Yamaguchi’s eyes suddenly stung with shameful tears. He bit down on his lip, hard, tasting iron.

“I’ll let you in on a secret.” Ennoshita threw his arm around him casually, fingers curling tight into Yamaguchi’s arm. It was warm. “So do I.”

“Even though it would mean…” Yamaguchi trailed off, remembering. Remembering Daichi’s fall, remembering Ennoshita taking over. He had done a good job, holding the team together in his absence, but it hadn’t been the same. They shouldn’t wish catastrophe on the team just for a chance to stand there with them. To play instead of watch.

“Even though.” Ennoshita grimaced a little, holding Yamaguchi a little tighter, a little closer. “For what it’s worth, you’ll get another chance.”

“S-So will you, Ennoshita.”

It was no secret that Ennoshita was slotted to be the next captain. He was the logical choice, when surrounded by players that were, perhaps, stronger, but less reliable. Not calm enough to hold a team together.

Ennoshita could do that. Would do that. Yamaguchi didn’t doubt he would make a terrific captain, especially after seeing him in action. At the same time, he wished they could keep playing as they were right now.

Things were changing. Every day.

“Yeah,” Ennoshita said softly, finally letting him go. Yamaguchi felt colder without him. “So you know what that means right? They need our support, as much as we can give them, as we are right now.”

“You’re right.”

Of course he was right.

Yamaguchi wished he would touch him again.  _Say something._

“You’ll make a great captain,” he blurted out, flushing red. Narita, on his other side, glanced over at them, before turning slightly away to give them some privacy. “I know you will.”

“I appreciate that, Yamaguchi. But that won’t be for a while yet.”

Graduation wasn’t all that far off, in reality. It made Yamaguchi feel slightly sick, thinking off all the third years being gone. Everything would change.

Ennoshita smiled again.

“Maybe one day, you will too.”

“M-Me?”

“Sure thing. You’re captain material if I’ve ever seen it.”

Yamaguchi didn’t have a response. He looked back to the game.

_Maybe I, too, can fly._

Yamaguchi barely heard a word that Coach Ukai said to them, after, after they had won, after they had cleared off the court and were waiting to go in to watch the upcoming match. He barely heard what Daichi said either.

All because he was thinking about what Ennoshita had said. Captain material. Did he really think that? It wouldn’t be like him to lie, not even to make him feel better. And he had stood up for Yamaguchi before, even against the Coach.

He glanced Ennoshita’s way, almost shy.

He didn’t expect to find him looking back.

Ennoshita winked, mouthed the words  _pay attention._

Yamaguchi’s head whipped back around but even so, he couldn’t hear them speaking over the pounding of his heart in his ears.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

On the bus back from the match, Tsukishima fell asleep with his headphones on, leaving Yamaguchi alone with his thoughts.

Ennoshita was just across the aisle. Within touching distance, if he stretched.

He didn’t. Couldn’t. He had no reason to, except that he  _wanted._

He just couldn’t help feeling hopeful. Like he had a chance with Ennoshita, if he could just manage to say the right words, do the right thing.

Yamaguchi closed his eyes.

As if Ennoshita would ever see him as anything other than his junior. He could have his pick of anyone. Why would he ever choose Yamaguchi?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Yamaguchi stayed after to practice his serve. He should have been resting, maybe, should have walked home with Tsukishima, but he was too restless after the match.

“Staying out late, huh?”

_Ennoshita._

“You know, there’s such a thing as being too dedicated, right? Resting is just as important as practicing.”

“I couldn’t rest, e-even if I tried,” he stammered out, taking careful aim with the next ball. It barely made it over the net and he cringed, knowing Ennoshita was watching.

“I understand.” Ennoshita walked over, picking up one of the fallen balls and tossing it to him. Yamaguchi nearly dropped the damn thing, but managed to curl it into his chest at the last second. “Can I watch?”

“There’s really no need—”

“I’d like to see you in action,” he said with a smile. “And besides, I have the keys to lock up the gym.”

“It only works about half the time, still,” Yamaguchi admitted, ashamed.

“That’s still more times than I could ever do a jump-float serve. C’mon. I can’t leave until you do, anyway.”

“Just a few more than,” Yamaguchi grudgingly agreed.

He tried to block him out, but he stood right at the corner of his vision. His next few balls went off-course, too much spin. Just as he was getting frustrated and ready to call it quits, Ennoshita came up behind him.

He placed his hands on Yamaguchi’s shoulders, even though he had to reach up to do so. “I’m distracting you, aren’t I? You’re so tense.” Ennoshita rubbed at his shoulders a bit. “Relax. I’m not here to judge you.”

Then he laughed.

“I forget how tall you are sometimes, since you’re always standing next to Tsukishima.”

“Not always,” Yamaguchi said, thinking of all the times he stood next to  _him._

“Not always,” Ennoshita agreed quietly. “Anyway, it’s a good thing. Height gives you an advantage, in volleyball.”

Yet Hinata was a regular and he was not. He wanted to be more. He wanted to fly. He wanted to play.

Ennoshita walked around to the front so they stood facing each other.

“Chin up, Yamaguchi,” he said, softer. “I told you you’ll get your chance.”

“Not if I don’t practice.”

“So practice. Forget I’m here.”

“I can’t,” he said before he could think better of it.

“All right, how about this then.” Ennoshita ducked under the net. He smiled again, crooked and charming and handsome. “Target practice.”

Yamaguchi took a deep breath, nodded.

The next serve wasn’t a success, but the one after was absolutely perfect form. And the next, and the next.

He felt untouchable. His skin buzzed with a sense of victory as Ennoshita helped him clear things away and locked the doors behind them.

“Thank you, Ennoshita.”

“Hm?”

“For the, um, target practice. It helped. And for what you said. For what you always say.”

“Well, I’m glad I could help, even a little. That serve of yours is getting to be pretty impressive.”

“Thank you.”

They walked in silence. The school grounds were empty at this dark hour and it felt strange to even be there. Especially alone with Ennoshita.

Eventually it came time to part ways.

“Have a good night, Yamaguchi. Get some rest.” Ennoshita touched his arm and Yamaguchi wished he had left off his jacket, so he could feel his fingers against his skin one more time. “Tomorrow’s a new day.”

“You too, Ennoshita. Goodnight.”

He watched his retreating back until he disappeared in the dark. Even then, Yamaguchi watched a few minutes more, imagining he had offered to walk him home.

Ennoshita would have denied, politely of course. What need did he have for Yamaguchi by his side?

That’s where he wanted to be, regardless.

That’s where he would always want to be.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Another match came. Another day by Ennoshita’s side. They cheered the rest of the team on together, calling out encouragement, celebrating each hard-earned point.

Their opponent was strong. Strong enough that Yamaguchi was called onto the court as a pinch-server. He swallowed hard, legs weak, but feeling determined.

_I won’t let them down. Not again._

He aimed.

The ball went right where he wanted it too, perfect form. Service ace.

“Again,” Nishinoya laughed. Tsukishima shot him a tiny smile from the front line, Hinata let out a whoop of joy. “Do it again!”

And he did. Again, and again, until he couldn’t anymore.

When he got called off the court, he couldn’t help feeling a little disappointed he couldn’t stay for longer, but he was glowing with his success. His eyes went right to Ennoshita.

_Did you see?_ he wanted to ask.  _Were you watching me?_

Ennoshita didn’t say anything, but he grinned at him as the other benched players slapped his back, as Coach Ukai said a few gruff words about him doing well.

Their hands brushed, standing together on the sidelines. It could have been an accident, but maybe not. Yamaguchi held his breath, skin tingling.

He let his hand purposefully brush up against Ennoshita’s, selfishly, just one more time.

Ennoshita hooked their pinky fingers together in a movement so smooth that Yamaguchi couldn’t do much more than blush and tense up, staring sightlessly at the match going on. He leaned in close to speak, standing on his tiptoes to reach Yamaguchi’s ear.

“Some other time, I’ll hold your hand for real.”

“That a promise?” he choked out in a whisper, very aware of Narita and Kinoshita standing nearby.

Ennoshita looked his way, and his dark eyes were soft, soft.

“It’s a promise.”

With that, he let go.

There was a game to finish, after all.

Yamaguchi smiled.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
